Home & Dry
by Ryuuza Kochou
Summary: Everyone has a secret double life. Sometimes it's a thief, sometimes it's a grade schooler. Sometimes it's a little stranger. Saguru Hakuba's is a little stranger. Fusion with Push, including a full chorus of police, criminals, mafias, psychics and more..
1. Prologue: Basement Steps

Disclaimer: Push, Detective Conan/Case Closed & Magic Kaito are the property of…oh, various artists & studios with no connection to the author of this strange and non-profit fic.

Warnings: Supernatural themes, mild-to-light bad language

Author's notes: Having never actually had much prior knowledge of this fandom, this is certainly going to be…interesting. On the other hand, big AU writer here, so lots and lots and lots of space for interpretation. It's all good!

Good grief, yet another fusion. Yet another psychic panorama. What can I say? At least I'm consistent. This is a fusion with the movie Push, in which I've borrowed (okay, downright stole) quite a few familiar plot points. But fear not; no actual knowledge of Push is required here, and not much of the Detective Conan canon is either; it's only referenced mildly.

Much, much, _much_ kudos and appreciation to me beta reader, Kudostalker for giving up precious time to ferret out all my various mistakes. Thanks heaps! One major mistake with a key character name is now a thing of history. You're the best! Mistakes and mischaracterizations are all mine.

Please, read & review.

_Prologue: Basement Steps_

_Saguru swept the rain drenched hair out of his eyes and clenched his teeth, bitter taste filling his mouth as he was cornered, wordlessly snarling at his assailants as he chose to defy and fight right to the end. He could hear bullets coming from the scaffolding, rattles rather than blasts. Automatics…he hoped Hattori and Conan were both alright. He couldn't believe he'd gotten them mixed up in this. He couldn't believe they had come…willingly. Even now, at the edge, it was hard to imagine anyone really caring._

"_You will give that to me," she said, her catlike face almost amused._

_Out of the corner of his eye, Saguru saw a familiar figure dancing and leaping from rooftop to scaffold to gutter to rooftop with inhuman grace of a demon in the flesh, moving with all speed and no concern for safety, defying death with every step, every breath. As Kaitou spun briefly in profile, Saguru could see the familiar shape of the card gun ready in his hands._

_Saguru turned back to them, and answered her smirk with one of his own. "My apologies, madam. I cannot acquiesce to your charming request."_

_Saguru took no little joy in the pure shock that bloomed across her attractive face, her cold, heartless eyes. It was a joy straight off the poker table, the utter delight taken in an enemy suddenly realizing that you held the spare ace all along and the chips were all down._

_The guns had stopped, and the ear splitting screaming…Saguru could only hope, – an action he'd never had a moment's patience for normally – that Conan-kun's inestimable luck and Hattori's stubbornness and skill had saved them. Yes, the chips were down, it was all riding on one last, frail gambit._

_He jabbed the needle in his arm, already feeling cold and sluggish. His strength was draining like someone had pulled a plug. "Are you having a little trouble?" he asked her, her face a furious picture of frustration and concentration both. "So sorry to disappoint."_

"_Saguru, no!" came the yell, and cards fanned past his cheeks, leaving bloody slices and outraged cries as they curved and rifled with astonishing precision. _

_But everything was slipping away now – sound went first, taste and smell were gone before he realized he had them, touch only lasted long enough for him to feel the jarring blow of the concrete as it rose to meet him. Saguru stared into the falling rain and struggled for breath, struggled for clarity, fought to think clearly – his brain was the only thing he could really say was his. But even that was abandoning him; and he realized, even as his heart stuttered, that he was deeply afraid. He realized now why people to instinctively reached to clutch the hands to the sick, or injured, or dying, or dead. Saguru, who had always believed that being alone was an asset rather than a hindrance was falling headlong into some dark place and finally, really understood what being alone truly was. He would have given anything, literally anything, to have someone here with him. "I'm afraid. I'm afraid…" he whispered to the darkness, which swept over him suddenly, with no warning, with no way to bargain, or beg, or deny._

"_Saguru!"_

_Saguru Hakuba, Holmes aficionado, genius, teenage detective, antithesis and opponent to the famous Kaitou Kid, lay in the rain on a rooftop, and died._


	2. Foundations

Disclaimer: As before, Push & Detective Conan/Magic Kaito belong to other people; the author's just borrowing them for fun.

Warnings: Supernatural themes, light bad language

Authors Notes: Not much to add here; again, thanks so much to Kudostalker for effort, time and diligence. Any mistakes are entirely mine!

Please enjoy & review

Chapter One: Foundations

_One Week Earlier_

Saguru Hakuba shoved his hands into the pockets of his heavy coat. It was a wintry day, not quite into the snow season but you could taste ice in the air streams. It reminded Saguru of England, with a slight stirring of fondness in his usually unsentimental heart. At least it was an improvement on the summers in Japan, which could reach a muggy, stifling heat Britain hadn't seen since before the last ice age.

It promised to be a long night. One of the Kaitou Kid's infamous notes had been received and started the usual frantic panic to prepare for whatever International Criminal 1412's truly twisted ingenuity could contrive. Tonight's target; the ninety eight carat clear white diamond known as the Star of the Western Sea, currently being displayed at the Kuzuryu Art Gallery.

Good grief, Saguru appreciated the Task Force's enthusiasm but by this point in his pursuit of the infamous thief he had abandoned the idea of a solid plan of attack. There was no set procedure that could take the Kid, whose ability to twist known reality until it creaked verged on the supernatural. Instead, Saguru was embracing the idea of fluidity in his plans – having only a goal and a set of tools and variables, and then letting the flow take you where it would, using it to your advantage. If this was one thing the Kaitou Kid could teach you, it was how to dance the dance.

Saguru was sure Nakamori-keibu had to know the same by now. In fact Saguru was getting fairly sure the Inspector only assigned the insanely detailed prep work to the Task Force as a sort of reconnaissance hiding under busywork – lord knows, by the time every detail was in place every cop assigned knew the lay of the land down to inches. There were members of the Task Force that knew more about the layout and infrastructure of the local museums and galleries than the architects who built them.

He turned up the drive of his Japan home, just in time to get the door open for his housekeeper - who was juggling shopping, dry cleaning, car keys, house keys and for some unfathomable reason, a stiff bottle brush type broom on an improbably long handle with an impressive amount of finesse.

"Thank you, sir," she sighed graciously as Saguru chivalrously motioned her in, neatly taking possession of the long brush and two bags when she passed by.

Saguru regarded the brush with amusement. "The last time you attempted to clean on your holidays, Baaya, your sister didn't speak to you for a week."

The spry old woman rounded on him in shock. "I know you're one for deductions, sir, but how on earth did you know that?"

"Well, I could say that I've noticed you do work as a sort of leisure activity, like other people play squash; I could also mention that when you got back from your last holiday you were out of sorts and clearly not wearing the ring you share with your sister. But, most of my knowledge did in fact come to be via the rather…forthright letter your sister wrote to me at the time."

Pure horror flashed across the woman's face. "She didn't!" she cried, aghast.

Saguru grimaced. "She did indeed. She was quite vehement about you being overworked, underpaid…"

"…where does she _think_ the car I bought her came from, an egg?"

"…and institutionalized like a prisoner in service of yours truly."

"Oh, sir!" Baaya's hands had risen to her mouth.

Saguru held up mollifying hands. "It's alright, Baaya. She cares about you; she thinks you don't rest enough. I found it quite touching." He raised an eyebrow. "And for the sake of the laundry, I do hope you're not going to start another quarrel with her," he waved the brush.

"Oh no, rest and relaxation as demanded by the head tyrant, sir," the old woman gave a wry smile. "Not you, of course, but her. It's just that we're going to Australia this time…"

"Ah, the spiders."

"Yes, the spiders," Baaya held the brush like a soldier presenting arms. "They're absolutely full of the…the monsters down there, sir. I can handle anything else, anything, but spiders. I thought it best to be prepared. One sweep and all the webs will be gone."

Saguru kept a straight face, because he liked and respected his housekeeper and felt there was nothing to be gained by mentioning that quite a few spiders didn't have webs, or visible nests. The woman needed a break, and certainly didn't need any stress. "A pre-emptive strike. Very direct." He substituted.

"Yes sir. Oh, there's some mail for you, sir."

Saguru felt the hairs on his neck give a slight tingle. "You collected the mail this morning, didn't you?"

"There was some extra in the box when I looked later on, sir."

Saguru nodded, and headed for the foyer and the mail rack.  
Yes, there it was - a Note from the Kid himself. He could recognize that little caricature blindfolded. And interestingly, a second envelope which looked like a Chinese _yāsuì qián_, otherwise known as a red packet; a red and gold envelope for gift money, bribe money and a symbol of luck and fortune in the New Year.

Kid Note first. Saguru opened it carefully, but without much overt concern. If it had been placed in the letterbox the chances were good it wasn't booby trapped. The Kid hated innocent bystanders and without a doubt knew he had a housekeeper who handled the mail.

Just another little taunt, by the looks of it. _Looking forward to tonight's performance. I hear there will be many pigeons roosting in the eaves._

Saguru's eyes narrowed. Well, that was certainly succinct, cryptic and annoying. Pure Kaitou Kid, as a matter of fact. He filed it away for study later; the Kid was the master of the double, triple, and quadruple meaning.

There was a note on the slip of paper inside the _yāsuì qián_, and this on the other hand didn't look like the Kid's work. A carefully rounded yet slightly sloppy hand had written '_Confucius say, 'when an unexpected marble interrupts your path in life, take the opportunity to throw it at your opponent'. Be seeing you at the clock with no workers, only minders, and no hands but a dial. Midnight. See?'_

Saguru frowned and reread the whole thing. It was highly strange and definitely not the Kid. The Kid had much better riddles than this at his disposal. The minute Saguru read it he knew where this supposed meeting was to take place.

But why?

* * *

And now it was time for the heist.

Saguru cursed as he chased the dancing figure across the museum's rooftop and followed his across to the next building with the ease of long practice, still shedding a few feathers. This heist would definitely be one for the books. How in the hell had he managed to get that many pigeons into the ventilation system? And keep them quiet? For that matter, how the hell had he simply gotten that many pigeons? There had been hundreds, raining down from the vents, scattering up from the stairwells, from behind paintings, and from inside urns. Of course, in the ensuing moment of complete brain freeze, the Kid had been in and out, and was currently making his escape with his prize.

Saguru blamed himself for this. He knew he should have studied the Kid Note more carefully, but the other note in the red envelope had distracted him. He should have known better than to let that happen.

Nevertheless, here they both were. The Kid because he could practically defy the laws of physics at will and had gotten through the skylight and Saguru because even though he hadn't thought properly about the Note, he had at least the notion that height would somehow be important; and had therefore staked out the rooftop. He was therefore the only one in a position for pursuit.

The Kid looked like he was having fun tonight. Saguru could hear him snickering as he leapt and dodged onto gutters and fire escapes and tenements. The Kuzuryu Gallery wasn't a major one, and it wasn't in the richer parts of town where there was a better spread of buildings. This area was mostly residential – though the Task Force had taken some pains to cordon off a wide area – and filled with odd twists and turns of buildings huddling together through time and economics, much like the people inside. Here and there scaffolding jutted into the dark sky, showing developers growing interest in the otherwise low key area.

"So close, tantei-san, so very close!" the Kid grinned as Saguru zigged and zagged, trying to track his path.

"Just wait," Saguru gritted out, leaping over a gap and onto the next building's flat roof in hot pursuit. The Kid just laughed.

In front of them, a storey or so taller apartment building rose up, showing an ironwork fire escape on which some hopeful green thumb had hung potted plants and stuck some window boxes on slats balanced on the rails in the hope they would get more sun. Immediately to the left, and indeed embracing parts of both buildings was another developer's scaffold, with slats and ladders and equipment piled and stuffed wherever there was space, even overflowing onto their rooftop.

Saguru took note of all this between one breath and the next. It never hurt to know your surroundings.

The Kid was heading for a leap onto the scaffolding. From there, he would have the advantage – that thing was a giant playground to someone with the grace and fearlessness of the Kid. Saguru lengthened his steps.

Kaitou Kid flashed him an evil smile as he twirled as the parapet's edge, and his card gun whipped seemingly out of nowhere, and fired. The sharp edged card (Two of Clubs, Saguru noted absently as it went past), and sliced open a bag of cement mix as it curved behind him. Ducking away from the dusty cascade cost Saguru a precious few steps as the thief ahead gained the parapet and prepared to leap.

Neither noticed the card had turned almost a full curve, and stuck a bucket left on top of square structure holding the roof door. The bucket canted, pivoted on one edge and clattered onto its side, throwing a it's hidden cargo across the top of the roof door and down onto the rooftop proper to bounce with a _skit-skit-skit_ completely unnoticed in the pounding footsteps and hiss of falling cement dust. The tiny anachronism ended its entrance in a roll, rebounding off another bucket, rolling along the line of a broken slat of wood and into the pile of cement dust, where its course was altered by the random piles gathered and was sent off towards the roof edge.

Saguru felt his foot land on something and slide sideways, and suddenly he was trying to compensate for the unexpected skew of his leg. He bent his other leg, trying to exert enough opposing force to pull his sliding foot back on course, but whatever he'd stepped on was round enough to act like a wheel, his foot shooting out while the thing rolled underneath. Saguru was forced to plant his opposite knee to keep himself from dislocating his hip or wrenching his skewed leg, stopping his forward momentum with one hand slapped forward. Anyone with slower than his lightning fast reflexes would have probably cracked their head into the pavement.

Saguru could already taste bitter defeat. His bent knee was complaining about the drive into the hard concrete, and even if he could move at his former speed he had lost too much ground. _Damn_ it! He reached over to grasp whatever mindless object had thwarted him from where it was trapped under his foot, which was necessitated by a kind of hamstring posture only a yoga aficionado would attempt.

Of course, the Kid's snigger from the rood edge was not improving his mood. "Very healthy, detective! Everyone should stretch after exercise." Kaitou Kid paused long enough to bow to his audience

Saguru growled at the cocky thief taking such delight in his humiliation. He couldn't believe he'd been defeated by….

…a marble….

A red envelope, slip of paper, and round, misshapen writing flashed out of his photographic memory.

Saguru looked ahead to where the Kid was finishing his bow. Well, it wasn't as if the night wasn't a complete embarrassment anyway…

He flicked the marble in a quick sweeping movement of his hands perfected from years and years of pub darts. It torpedoed towards its target, who was forced to flinch out of the way. "Temper, temper!" was the Kid's amused assessment.

And then….

….Saguru was never entirely clear on what happened next, but after reconstructing it later he thought the chain of events proceeded as follows:

The marble ricocheted off one rail of the fire escape on the next building, giving it an upward vector which sent it arrowing to land a strike on the hitherto unnoticed cat sleeping two floors up. The highly indignant tabby let out a fierce yowl and took off in full bristle, knocking several terracotta pots off their perches.

Said pots plummeted down, one meeting its demise against one of it brethren sitting on a board of wood on the railing below, which in turn knocked one end of the board to fall to the ground, leaving one end jutting over the rails and having all the pots that had been lined on the makeshift shelf slide towards the ground end.

Into the picture came yet another falling pot, which stuck the board end still jutting up over the rail, turning board, pots, plants and all into a crude catapult which flung its load into the scaffolding across the way.

The thrown pots bounced against a ladder left leaning on the scaffolding, which canted sideways and just caught the edge of a pallet loaded with more bags of cement mix. The ladder was just heavy enough to cause the pallet to pivot as the ladder moved against it, pushing sideways and out.

A scraping pallet nail caught on a length of rope left half coiled next to the pallet as it teetered and fell. It must have either caught on a knot in the rope or the rope had looped pretty tightly, because the pallet and ladder ended up dragging a heavy toolbox that was tied to the other end of the rope along for the ride, as the pallet and ladder, still entangled, fell off the scaffold. The tool box was almost coffin sized, and stuck between two stanchions with a bang.

Pallet, cement bags and ladder all fell through several levels, with a tremendous cacophony of bangs, snaps and shatters, and worse, dragged at the tool box with all their combined weight.

There was an ominous creak from the scaffolding and from the rope, but whoever had secured the rope to that box for lifting into the scaffold had been a damn fine knot tyer. With an odd shudder, the scaffolding gave one last groan and then ripped itself apart as the box was yanked through the stanchions like a loose tooth, snapping them to splinters in the process.

Saguru felt adrenaline saturating his system at the sight of a good tonne of wood and metal bear down on _his_ thief. He bore himself up and leapt for the Kid, catching the back of his costume and yanking him away from the falling debris. They both ended up taking flying leaps and rolls away from the tidal wave of construction that broke over the building and rained into the alley below.

"Look out!" The Kid yelled over his shoulder as he was pulled off the parapet by Saguru, follow by yells and stampeding from the alley below. The wood and piping shattered and rang out into the night, accompanied by a high pitched smash of breaking glass.

Both Saguru and the Kid rolled upright in time to see a bundle of timber come flying off the stop of the crumbling structure to come at them like a giant wooden hammer, but the Kid's card gun came out again, expertly severing the ties that held the bundle together. Slats of wood fanned out like a flower in midair, their forward energy dispersed enough for both thief and detective to split up and escape the bouncing pieces.

Eventually there was silence, broken only by the odd bang or clang of wreckage, settling on the roof or on the alley below. The scaffolding was completely gone, leaving only a few jagged pieces of wood and piping still jutting up like a torturers spikes, and miscellaneous piles of broken detritus.

The whole unlikely, unbelievable act had taken about twelve seconds.

"Well," the Kid's eyebrows were up. "Not bad for a night's work, detective."

"I'll say," Saguru replied blandly, holding up his unexpected prize. "As I've got your gem." It had been nothing more than dumb luck; he'd felt the stone in his hand when he'd grabbed the Kid's costume, and whatever leaping and rolling they had done to escape being crushed had somehow loosened it from however it had been affixed. It had come out in Saguru's hands as they parted.

Kaitou Kid's eyes narrowed, and he looked decidedly vexed.

"If you want it," Saguru challenged softly. "Please come and take it."

The Kid's just flashed him another tight, predatory smile. "Beware, detective. One should not poke a tiger then turn his back."

And then he was gone, off the edge of the roof and gliding away like a shadow.

Saguru watched him go with an uneasy roil in his stomach. The blonde detective really didn't like what he'd seen in that smile. The Kid was not exactly known for taking humiliation gracefully.

He took a moment to look around at the utter chaos around him and grimaced. A night's work indeed….

There was a _skit-skit-skit_ noise coming towards him, and Saguru reached out reflexively to snatch whatever it was from the air. Yes, yes, it was the same damn marble; somehow rolling and bouncing its way back to its point of origin from wherever it had gone.

He looked closely at the thing which had caused such a huge chain reaction. It was a large clear glass marble, perfectly smooth despite the knocks it had taken. As Saguru turned it over he noticed there was a crudely drawn pattern scratched into the otherwise pristine surface.

And suddenly, Saguru's personal universe came to a full, whiplash inducing stop, ice filling his brain and trickling down his spine.

On the marble, there was a carved flower.


	3. Framework

Disclaimer: Detective Conan/Magic Kaito and _Push_ are properties of the authors, studios and publishers. No money claimed here, just for amusement.

Warning: Supernatural themes, violence & some bad language

Author's note: Fun with fish! Believe it or not, the strange, _strange_ fish anecdote in this chapter really happened – only they were raising carp.

Chapter Two: Framework

"…yes, yes, understood. The drug and the scene will remain off the official records; but sir, I have to say I don't like thi….no, sir! Absolutely not, sir! As you say, sir. Yes, well, good…" Inspector Nakamori, head of the task force slammed the surveillance van's phone back onto its cradle with enough force to rattle the console. "Jackass," he hissed through gritted teeth, his face an amazing shade of red. He was about to spew a flood of vitriol to relieve the pressure cooker of his fury, but as he looked up he hastily swallowed the words. The youngest and, he could admit it; most intelligent member of his Task Force was quietly standing before him, as if he'd simply appeared out of nowhere.

Good grief, what chain of events had lead them to hiring children no older than his own daughter?

"Hakuba-kun, I hope you've got some good news for tonight. It's going to be hell explaining just how we managed to level a building. Usually we have to blame the damn thief for that."

Nakamori-keibu's eyes widened as Saguru silently placed the Star of the Western Sea in front of him. "My God…" he looked at Saguru. "I am impressed, young man."

Saguru shifted on his feet. "To be honest with you, sir, it wasn't anything more than luck."

Nakamori-keibu sighed and steepled his fingers. "Piece of advice, Hakuba-kun. It's best to keep that kind of thing to yourself. It never hurts to have a bit of mystique about your reputation. Stealing a jewel back from a jewel thief? Pure gold."

Nakamori watched the self possessed face in front of him. Just for a moment he was sure the young man was slightly taken aback, but he covered it well. It was nice to know – in fact, it was comforting to know – that there was still a little bit callow youth still left in this young man before him. Something that still believed and learned and made assumptions and wonderful, innocent mistakes; Nakamori had seen too many not-children in his time on the Force, adults in children's clothing whose childhood had been ripped away and stolen. Say what you would about the Kid, he at least gave what he stole back.

At first glance Saguru Hakuba appeared to be like those not-children, and for all the usefulness in his mature outlook and insight, Nakamori was always secretly glad that there was still a kid in there somewhere.

"They'll be commendations for this, you mark my words," Nakamori continued.

The blonde detective shrugged. "It's the Task Force's victory, sir, not mine."

Nakamori grinned. Because honour is _important _to you, right kid? Honest reward for honest victory. Yep, still definitely a kid; but nevertheless a detective he would officially hire in a second if he carried his traits into adulthood.

Namakori regarded Hakuba from his chair. He could see the mind in the ice blue eyes calculating and connecting with a finesse and skill only true talent could grant and time would only sharpen. "How much of the phone conversation did you hear?"

"Everything from 'the drug and the scene', sir," the kid's face was bland, his eyes were sharp. "I did not mean to intrude, Nakamori-keibu."

Nakamori waved a dismissive hand at that. He was willing to accept the intention was sincerely there; but Hakuba was a detective born and bred, and detectives were paid to be nosy parkers. "Yes, well, let's not waste time insulting either of our intelligences, shall we?" Nakamori offered. "I'm sure you know everything there is to know about confidentiality, so I'm not even going to start with you on that."

"I will not speak of anything you tell me now to anyone, sir," the boy promised solemnly.

Nakamori nodded. "Very well. When the scaffolding collapsed, it appears to have landed right on top of a high end drug deal. Seems like some of the more sophisticated criminal element was making good use of the empty streets from our secured perimeter." Nakamori grimaced at that; so did Saguru. Nakamori withdrew a large syringe in an evidence bag from the inside of his jacket – the liquid inside was dark and fathomless. "According to the call I just got from the head of the Drug Department," he cast an extremely nasty look at the phone. "This drug is a huge deal in Hong Kong at the moment – so big, that he doesn't even want the details released to the Task Force. The man wouldn't even tell me the damn stuff's name. Apparently they're about to have a major sting there; _any_ word of this stuff leaving Hong Kong or falling into police hands could bring the whole operation down. So as of now, even as far as the Task Force is concerned, this has not happened, the drug is not here. I'm not even to check it into the normal chain of evidence."

Saguru was shocked; no wonder Nakamori-keibu was so livid. Not just ordered to blatantly ignore the most basic custody procedures, but asked to keep secrets from his own Task Force? That sort of thing could break a department; it certainly killed morale more efficiently than a bullet. Saguru looked at the loaded syringe again. "That drug must be worth quite a lot and is definitely not for the average street user." Saguru shook his head. "What about the dealers, sir? They're not expecting us to just let them get away?"

"They've mostly already gotten away, son. The building fell almost on top of them – no one dead, thankfully, but they all escaped custody in the confusion. It took the Task Force a while to get here and sort out the mess; the money, apparently, went with one of the escaped dealers, the drugs," he gestured to the evidence bag. "This is one; there may be others, maybe in the rubble or maybe with the dealers that escaped; the Task Force is searching right now, in between dealing with the damn fish."

Saguru blinked. "Fish?"

"You didn't see the fish? The damn alley is swimming in them!"

"I came down from the roof using the building stairs, Nakamori-keibu, and came straight from the front door to here," Saguru explained. "I did notice an unusual amount of…unprofessional language coming from the alley, but I thought the gem should be secured before all else."

"Some…_completely_ mad Vietnamese immigrants living on the seventh floor of the opposite building were trying to breed some kind of large, non-local fish species in their living room – quite a few were bred by the looks of things. When the construction fell in a couple of pipes and stanchions took a sizable chunk out of their wall and broke their windows. Fish started coming out of the holes." Nakamori began digging around one end of the van while Saguru frowned, trying to connect all the facts and figure out what the big deal about a few fish was. The Inspector drew out what looked like a plastic filing tub and brought it over to the operations desk, the tub now hastily filled with water and holding a writhing, bumping occupant. "The Task Force is pressing any container they can find into service; every man o' jack of 'em wants a personal word with the idiot who kept them, whatever the hell they are. They're vicious, we know that much."

"Well, it's an unusually large fish species to keep as pet," Saguru said slowly, trying to get a read on the species from what he could see through the partially transparent plastic. "Especially in such a small apartment, but I don't quite see why…"

"I don't think you quite heard me right, Hakuba-kun," Nakamori pinched the bridge of his nose. "The Vietnamese people were breeding them _in_ their living room. Their _entire_ living room. Apparently they lined the entire living room and front foyer with plastic sheeting on the floor and up the walls and filled it two feet deep in water. God knows how they answered the door if anyone came, they'd have had to wade to get to it."

Saguru's jaw dropped open. "And no one noticed the entire seventh floor had turned into an aquarium?"

"The neighbours below have been complaining about mould and slime coming down their walls, but they clearly never saw inside the apartment with the home made lagoon." Nakamori gloomily poked at the specimen circling its temporary habitat. "Once we've cleaned up we're trying to find somewhere to put them until the local aquarium can make space for them. They're trying to requisition an old factory not far from here, just temporarily."

Saguru looked down into the tub. "That is absolutely unbe…piranha,"

"What?"

"Sir, this fish is a piranha," Saguru clarified.

Nakamori's eyes bulged, and his hand flew back from the water almost too fast to be seen. "_What?_ Are you sure?"

"Yes sir. I once worked with Scotland Yard on an illegal animal trading ring; actually, that was where I acquired Watson," Saguru stared at the fish. "They were trading several exotic fish species too. That is definitely a piranha."

"Oh, fabulous!" Nakamori threw up his hands. "Kaitou Kid escapes _again_, half a building is gone, there's a drug that is here but isn't, and now we have a street full of man eating fish to deal with!"

"Actually Nakamori-keibu, piranhas aren't man-eating. That myth was started by local guides in Brazil who set up a feeding frenzy trying to impress Theodore Roosevelt when he explored the area early in the 1900's. Piranha's do bite, but are only dangerously aggressive when starved…." He trailed off in the face of Nakamori's glare.

"Well, judging by the fish skeletons that also ran out onto the street, and the fact that most of the Task Force has had at least one brush with losing fingers, and the fact that we can only put one fish per container because they'll attack each other otherwise…I deduce that these monsters are extremely hungry and incredibly pissed off," Nakamori glared at the fish. "A state of affairs I sympathize with entirely."

Saguru cleared his throat. "I will go out and assist the Task Force, sir." It couldn't be too much harder than training his falcon, surely?

"No, you will go home," Nakamori rubbed his face. "Sleep. Play video games, or whatever it is teenage boys do. It's well past your shift hours by now."

Saguru's eyes narrowed. "I realize there had to be a lot of agreements in place in order for me to work as a consultant for the department, sir, but I can promise you my father will not fire you for asking me to do my fair share." He hated when people downplayed his workload because of his age. He carried his weight on the Task Force, and never let so much as a gram slip from his grasp.

"This doesn't come from your father, kiddo," Nakamori looked almost amused. "Although he and I have had words over this before, you can bet on it. It's just that if you go to school with bags under your eyes my daughter makes sure I know it, usually at the top of her voice."

Saguru hastily took a step back. "She doesn't?"

Nakamori chuckled at the blonde's suddenly flustered face. "Unfortunately, she does. She is a police officer's daughter after all, and she's learned how to observe and deduct. I'd rather not incur her wrath; she tends to get vehement about people she cares for."

"I've always appreciated her kindness," Saguru managed weakly, visibly pulling himself together from his embarrassment.

Nakamori took pity on the intensely reserved teenager. "Get out of here. I'll see you Monday; I'll take your reports then."

"Yes sir, I'll have them ready." Saguru made his escape with hasty grace, exiting the van with a salute.

Nakamori sighed at the swinging van door. On any other teenage boy, that reaction would have indicated a raging crush, which he would be parentally duty bound to ward off with death threats. But young Hakuba…whatever his many other talents, he just didn't seem to have a knack for handling anything even remotely personal.

Hopefully, Aoko and Kaito would continue to get him to open up. It was terrible to see someone so young, who was also so lonely.

* * *

Saguru didn't go home as ordered; it was nearly midnight now and his mystery guest was probably already waiting for him at '_the clock with no workers, only minders, and no hands but a dial'_; or, in other words, the Haiba Park floral clock, near the sundial. A flower bed who's flowers bloomed so punctually they told the time; a clock with no 'works', but it did have a slew of gardeners, or 'minders', and no minute or hour hands but a sundial.

The marble sat in his pocket, feeling heavier than any marble should.

Saguru sat on one of the park benches, and waited. He was trying to remember everything he knew about…the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

The clock stuck midnight.

"So you're the one who's supposed to help me, huh?"

Saguru turned.

The half-Brit hadn't had any particular expectations, and the short figure standing on the garden path certainly didn't meet any of the expectations he hadn't had. Standing before him was a boy no more than ten or eleven, short, skinny and red haired in a way that shone like a halo. He spoke Japanese quite well, but his accent was straight off the streets of London. His eyebrows were red as well, and drawn sharply down towards his angular nose, buttressed by high cheek bones and a jutting chin; the overall effect gave him a faintly irritated looking face even when he was happy.

Not that he looked happy now; his face bore a suspicious and pinched look.

Saguru very carefully didn't move. The boy's stiff posture indicated a willingness to bolt. "I suppose I am. My mother did send you here, after all."

The red head grunted dismissively at that. "I've never actually met the woman. I just know what mum told me about her," he shot Saguru a glare. "So I don't know you, and I don't know if you're trustworthy or not. Don't pretend we can be friends."

Saguru felt his eyes narrow in annoyance. It was late and he was tired, but he held back any sharp retort. The boy was thin and pale and had stark, dark bags under his eyes; his clothing had seen better years, his shoes were falling apart, and his eyes were bloodshot and paranoid. He clutched a duffel bag nearly as big as he was with fervor of someone holding onto the whole universe. You didn't need to be a detective to see the boy had been through the wringer, and quite recently at that.

Instead Saguru just raised an eyebrow and substituted with "I thought Watchers were mostly female."

The boy's face went red with ire. "Yeah?" he retorted with spiky sarcasm. "Well two hundred years ago all actors in the theatre were male. I think the state of the art was only improved by some curves and a little bouncing, don't you?" He took a few steps closer, scowling. "What sort of thing it that to say to a guy Watcher?"

Saguru calmly folded his hands onto his lap, doing his best to appear non-threatening. "I don't know. Usually when two people meet they introduce each other, rather than throw insults." He extended a hand. "Saguru Hakuba."

The boy stared at the hand warily, but conceded enough ground to join Saguru on the bench, although on the very edge on it. "Casey Smoke."

Saguru raised an eyebrow. "Casey…?"

"Smoke," the red head's eyes dared Saguru to make something of it. "My mum wasn't going to name me _Cassandra_ now, was she?" Casey snorted. He gave Saguru a speculative look. "Okay, so what are you? You know, Sniffer, Mover, Pusher…"

"I'm a detective." Saguru stared off into the distance.

Casey frowned at him. "I've never heard of that type before."

"You generally find us in police departments," Saguru explained sardonically.

"Oh, come on!" Casey threw up his hands in frustration. "Are you seriously telling me you've got no psychic talent whatsoever? What the hell good are you supposed to do me? After all this! Why do they think a stupid mundane can help me?"

Saguru pursed his lips in irritation. "I suppose that all depends on what kind of help you need. I may or may not be psychic, but I do know that you were born in London's West End; you also spent a considerable amount of time in Scotland, probably in a rural district. You didn't get here by plane – you got as far as Shanghai and have spent at least the last two weeks in Hong Kong; you then stowed away on a fishing boat, a small one, that came in via Okinawa and Yokohama. And you were there, on that apartment block near the scaffolding, to throw this marble back to me when the scaffolding fell," Saguru held it up out of his pocket.

Casey's jaw was open. "And you're not a Reader, or something?"

Saguru grimaced. "I've always thought that psychic power gets in the way of clear thinking, rather than enhancing it. All the ability to see the future in the world won't make up for you not using your brain, young master Smoke."

"So what, you just guessed all that?" Casey replied, rolling his eyes.

"Deducted, not guessed," Saguru corrected sternly. "I could go into the study of accents, wool types, airport tags and paper and envelope types, but I get the impression we do not have time for parley. You were sent here because you need help with something, that's what I was told. Maybe your problem isn't one that a psychic can help you with, but maybe a detective can. I was told to help you and because I gave my word to someone very important to me, I will keep it. If you're a Watcher, you must have seen this future already."

The boy seemed on the verge of spitting out some epithet, but suddenly shook himself and sagged on the park bench. "You're a real asshole, you know that right? I mean, the last few weeks will never make my top ten lists, okay, so excuse me for being a bit pissed off that I have to ask for help from some stick-in-the-mud stranger. I just wanted to be sure you were the right one. You don't have get all snippy."

They stared at each other.

Casey broke first. "Okay, so here's the thing…er, you know about the Divisions, right? The psychic groups that kidnap and use psychics?"

Saguru nodded.

"Right, good….well, the thing is the London Division has been working on this drug…"

Saguru stiffened.

"…I'm not really sure what it is exactly; some of mum's friends called it a psychic steroid. The Division agents were trying to set up a deal about it in Hong Kong with Hong Kong's Division; but one of the London guys defected on them, and took the syringes as he ran. I guess he doesn't think much of their pension plan, because he tried to sell it instead…"

"And he was dealing in the alley beneath the scaffolding." Saguru rubbed a hand over his face.

"Right, exactly. I was there watching it happen. When the scaffolding fell I was able to get down to the street and grab the defector's carry case," the boy dug around in the voluminous duffel and withdrew a hard shelled, small carry case, rather like a businessman's overnight bag, and unclasped it. Inside was foam padding with three divots, which looked crudely cut by the streetlights, where the syringes had clearly lain. "But the syringes weren't in there." He dug around in the duffel again, this time drawing out a handful of papers; they were an odd collection, looked to be torn from different notebooks and pads, and covered with colourful scrawls. "Now, I know one was picked up by the coppers," he showed a paper, and on it was….the lines were rather crude, but it looked like a tall man set in jagged outlines, one huge, out of proportion hand reaching forward almost out of the picture holding a familiar, dark syringe. The face was distorted but the moustache looked familiar.

"Nakamori-keibu," Saguru muttered, taking the page for a closer look.

"There were two other syringes…and we have to find them." He shot Saguru a sideways look.

Saguru looked straight back. "Why do you need these drugs?" he watched the young Watcher carefully.

Casey shifted on the bench, his eyes darting. "I'm a second generation Watcher. The Division…has my mother," he slapped another paper down on the bench between them. This one was done in sharp, red lines; a long haired figure being taken into what look like a police car. "I need the stuff to get her back. The London Division will do anything to get these stupid syringes back, even give up their best Watcher. I'll make a deal with them for the drugs."

Saguru shook his head. "You should not be helping them further their cause."

"Always fight the good fight, right?" was the acid response. "Well there is no good fight here, Mr. Detective! Either I give them the drugs or my mother gets stuck in one of their basements forever! And that's not going to happen!"

"Calm down," Saguru held up a hand. He hated dealing with children, they were so irrational. "I meant, if this drug gets back to them won't it make it worse for you and your mother in the long run? I was only a young child when I was last involved with the Division, but what I do remember is their agents hunt down psychics using psychics; if this drug is a sort of mental steroid, wouldn't it therefore make them stronger and more dangerous? What would stop them from finding you and your mother after they get the drug back and use it?"

Casey wrinkled his nose, his eyes shifting again. "That probably won't be a problem. According to my mum's friends, the stuff doesn't actually work. In fact I think everyone they've tested it on has died."

Saguru frowned. His mind sparked, judging and weighing the facts, viewing the problem from different angles. If the drug was useless, and they were still looking to get it back... "They want to give it to rival Divisions," he breathed.

"Reduce the competition, yeah. At least, that's what they think. My mum's friends, I mean. The Londoners were trying to sell it in Hong Kong, only one of the agents took the case and legged it, didn't he?"

"Still," Saguru repeated. "Helping the London Division take out their eastern counterparts is only going to hurt people like you in the long run. It would be foolish to…"

"Look, my mum saw all this okay? How do you think I know most of this? I never saw it, but mum saw it all, she saw it all coming," Casey was on his feet, furious. "My mum would never help the Division; she told me this was the way it had to go, she told me right before they took her away." His fists clenched. "I watched them take her. She told me to let them; that this was the way it had to go. I mean, come on, it's not like we can go to the coppers, is it? That's a police car!" he jabbed a furious finger at the picture on the bench. "All they had to do was say she was mad, that she was unfit. Then she's gone and I'm in the hands of…ha! 'Social Workers'!" the boy's hands made sarcastic quotes in the air. "God, you're supposed to be smart! Why aren't you listening to me? I don't know exactly what's coming but mum does. I have to trust she knows what she's doing. And that means finding you, and finding the drug. That's what she said I had to do; I had to find her old friend's son and he would help. Only, it doesn't look like you're going to _be_ much help!"

"I said I would help you, and I will help you," Saguru snapped, quelling the boy's outrage with a hard look. "But I need to know everything. I need to have all the information if my skills are going to be any use. It didn't seem to me like you were planning to tell me any of this; about your mother, about the drug deal, before I started asking questions. Am I wrong?"

Casey, breathing hard a fists clenched tight, looked away. "Don't know you. Can't trust you."

Saguru shrugged. "Well unfortunately for both of us, Casey-kun, you're going to have to take a leap of faith. If you can't tell me everything you know, then I can't help you. I may as well leave you here to deal with it yourself."

Casey looked up, white with fury. "You wouldn't! You asshole! You wouldn't dare!"

Saguru merely crossed his arms. He'd had some experience in interrogation, enough to know how to wait.

"Ha! You would," Casey spat. "You're a cold hearted bastard, you know that?"

Saguru shrugged off the criticism. "How important is this to you, Casey-kun? Will it be dangerous? I'm not stepping in the middle of this without at least knowing what to expect. If I'm putting my life and my career as a police officer on the line by covering up an illegal deal, aren't I at least owed that?"

Casey's mouth opened, and then shut again. "Alright, I sort of see where you're going." He conceded grudgingly. "Okay, I promise to tell you everything I know from now on, no secrets; but you have to promise to help me though, no matter what I tell you."

Saguru inclined his head. "Agreed. So?"

"So, you already know most of it by now. I blurted out most of it, didn't I?" Casey sat down again, rueful. "We have to find the other two syringes. The good news is, I know where to find them." He shuffled through his papers – a brief glance in the duffel revealed to Saguru that whatever space wasn't taken up by the drug case was full of a hodge podge of papers, pencils, pens and markers. He slapped another page down. "The guy running away shoved his take under a stack of …something on this street," he pointed to a simple picture, a road drawn with two lines coming together in the distance, bordered by faint, shadowy buildings and signs. Across the top of the road, a banner or gate post had kanji scrawling across it, the lines deep and dark like they'd been written over several times for emphasis.

"Chinoen Shopping District," Saguru read off the paper. "This isn't far from the gallery. Why didn't you stop there and pick them up?"

Casey had a sheepish look. "I can speak Japanese but I'm not so good at reading it. The Japanese are supposed to be clever – knowing two thousand characters just to read a paper? Who thought that was clever?"

Saguru sighed. "We'd best go and get the syringes tonight."

"Uh…yeah," Casey looked uncomfortable. "Well, we know where to look, that's the good news. There is also some pretty bad news."

"Which is?"

"Uh…the agents from the London Division? They _really_ want their stuff back; otherwise the Hong Kong Division'll carve them into stir fry. They've sent agents here – three that I've seen." Casey held up yet another drawing, showing the three figures – but the lines were so blurred it was impossible to tell features. The young Watcher probably hadn't 'seen' the people clearly; it took time and experience, Saguru vaguely remembered, to really attune the mind to the visions and see anything with real clarity consistently. "They'll be looking for us."

Fantastic. Saguru stared into the distance, and felt that bore repeating out loud. "Fantastic."

"Er…that's the pretty bad news. You want the really bad news?"

Saguru pinched the bridge of his nose. "That would be helpful."

"There is a mafia….no, what's the word they use? Syndicate. There's a criminal syndicate in Hong Kong – the Chan family. They found out about the drug and tried to steal it in Hong Kong, so they could use it for themselves. That's why the defector ran here instead of just hiding in Hong Kong or going into the China mainland. Well…they're here as well. They're all psychic, but at least one of them is a Watcher too. They'll be going after the drug as we do. I guess they didn't read the list of side effects in the company flyer, because they don't seem to know it's deadly."

Saguru felt a headache coming on.

"Annnnd...then there's the worse news," Casey continued dismally.

Saguru rolled his eyes. "There's a highest wave in this ocean?"

"Yes. And it's a big one." Casey speared him with a look. "You said you'd help me, no matter what I told you."

Saguru nodded. "I did. I intend to keep my word."

Casey relaxed slightly. He dug around in his paper again. "I'm not a very good Watcher. Nowhere near as good as mum. But the future I'm seeing right now, if we travel down this road, is this," he held up a picture.

This one was absolutely full of colour. Out of the mess of lines and shapes, two faces were clearly visible. There were cartoon like X's where the eyes were. Over the top was written in English 'Me' and 'Other Guy'.

"We die."


	4. Fastenings

_Chapter Three: Fastenings_

Two figures carefully went between the two gate posts, with a horizontal pole across the top of them that read Chinoen Shipping District in carved in kanji characters.

"Where did you see the dealer stick the syringes?" Saguru asked, doing his best to be quiet. This was a street whose shop owners lived above their shops, but the road was dark and quiet. It wouldn't hurt to make sure no one witnessed them digging around for contraband.

Saguru asked himself why he was doing this. His future and his life were at risk. He was willing to take risks – after all, he did work for the police - but only for justice, in pursuit of the Kid and for the protection of others. He looked sideways at Casey; well he supposed the boy, loud and tactless as he was, counted.

But that wasn't the reason. The reason was…the reason was that someone had once told him that this was going to happen. Back when he was small, back to a time he could now barely remember, which was strange considering his almost perfect recall. But nevertheless that time was dark and murky in his mind now, for good reason.

But that request – that strange request – about the boy who would come with 'a flower in the glass' had stuck with him, as clear and loud as if it was yesterday. He'd been told he had to help this boy when he came, do everything possible to help and save him. He remembered that so distinctly, even though the rest was a fog. Maybe…maybe if he went forward with this, he could finally solve the first mystery he had ever had to tackle, and the first one he had always failed to solve.

No matter the risk, he had to follow this to the end.

Casey looked mulish. "Not exactly. I saw him come in here. I saw him wait here and then I saw him stick the stuff under…something. And then he ran away from the lights."

Saguru frowned. "What lights?"

"I don't know!" Casey hissed, throwing up his hands. "I told you I'm not very good!"

Saguru scanned the market street, and turned to the gateway they had just entered, and the road beyond. "Hmm. Lights. Headlights, perhaps? A patrol car?" Saguru looked carefully cataloguing the details like he would a crime scene.

"What the verdict, Sherlock?" Casey asked, rolling his eyes.

"The perpetrator was a foreigner, over six feet tall, athletic, but oddly enough he was also a smoker." Saguru headed towards a stack of crates that had been left in a side alcove between two shops.

"You're joking with me right?" Casey was open mouthed. "How the hell did you know that?"

"Please keep your voice down," Saguru murmured as he slipped on a latex glove and ferreted in between paving stones. "The fewer people that see this, the better." The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. That was not a saying for a detective on the trail of the truth.

"Are you sure you're not a Reader?"

Saguru snorted derisively. "There's a cigarette butt here, fresh and still slightly warm. The man in question ran here from the alley when the scaffolding fell, and he'd have had to have gotten here before eleven-thirty. The scaffolding fell at eleven-twenty or so; that's a fairly quick run even over a short distance; so, he's athletic. Probably young, twenties or thirties, or maybe just someone who does regular outdoor work or exercise."

Casey frowned. "Wait, hang on, where'd you pull eleven-thirty from? Why eleven-thirty?"

Saguru nodded at the street. "There's a regular police car patrol in this area. A marked car should pass every ninety minutes or so, and at this point on their circuit that puts them here at around eleven-thirty, maybe a little past. You said he was running away from the 'lights'. A patrol car would have shone a spot light down here to check the street. He wouldn't have run from an ordinary car or a streetlight, but he'd be worried about getting arrested if he saw a police car."

Saguru put the butt in an evidence bag. "Here's what happened. The man ran from the alley after the scaffolding collapsed with the syringes in hand; he either dropped or missed one, because the Task Force found one still in the alley. He's athletic and a fast runner, so he makes it here before the patrol passes at around eleven-thirty. He ducks off the road and stands in between the shops here to have a cigarette, maybe consider his options before moving on. He's able to see the patrol car coming down the street from over the top of these crates," Saguru gestured to the stacked boxes. "Note that if you look from the side of the crates the full view of the street beyond is blocked by the market entrance posts from that angle. So, taller than six feet – I'd say well over, six four or six five. The taller he was the more warning he would have had. He'd just started to smoke, and dropped the still lit cigarette when he spotted the police car. It slowly burned down to the butt here after he was gone, which is why it's still warm long after it was dropped. And he's a foreigner; he wouldn't have had to run or hide from the police if all they saw a Japanese man smoking in the street; for all they know he could live here. A foreigner in a residential district in the middle of night, with no hotels or open businesses nearby would be suspicious enough to warrant questioning. He couldn't be sure they weren't actively looking for him and knows they will arrest him for holding contraband even if they know nothing about the drug deal earlier, so he hides the drug just in case he is caught, and runs, intending to come back later."

Casey grinned. "Okay, maybe I am a little impressed, Sherlock. Can you pull off a hat trick and find the drugs too?"

Saguru looked around. "He'd have to put them somewhere he knew they wouldn't be inadvertently discovered." His eyes landed on the communal garbage area in a discreet area close to the road, made of three walk-in wire mesh cages where bags of refuse were sorted and stored for collection by the waste department. There were signs and schedules posted up for use.

"Ewww, do we have to?" Casey face screwed up.

Saguru didn't look any happier. "I'd say he put it in recyclables; according to this, those are picked up Friday. Burnable garbage and non-burnable garbage are picked earlier in the week. He'd want to leave himself the most possible time, just to be sure."

He slipped on a second glove, and gingerly opened the recyclable area. There weren't many bags, that was a good sign. He heard the gate open in the next area, filled with non-burnables. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know much about deduction, but if I were this guy I would have hedged my bets," Casey snorted. There was a rustle as he no doubt prodded some of the contents with a toe.

Saguru tugged aside some of the huge white plastic bags that people of the street had packed their recyclables into, trying to see if any had been hastily re-tied or tampered with. The criminal would probably have been in a hurry…ah, here we are. Saguru pulled open a bag full of glass bottles and spotted something dark and irregular among he contents.

"Hah! Found it!" Casey's voice came from close by. "The guy hid it in the front corner, guess he wasn't eager to crawl through a whole pile like us."

"Please keep your voice down," Saguru reminded the Watcher, carefully storing the syringe in another evidence bag.

"Oh…crap."

The tone of voice from the red head made Saguru unfold from his crouch and turn, his body already sinking into a defensive stance.

"I think it's a bit late to keep voices down, yes?" said a smirking man and his compatriot.

Saguru catalogued even as the adrenaline flooded his system. Short, Asian, but from the accent Canton Chinese – Saguru suspected they called Hong Kong home. They were both in their early twenties and had enough common features to indicate they shared some genetics.

"Thank you for doing all hard work for us," the other one nodded, his eyes following the syringe in Saguru's hand like a hawk. Neither of them was armed, but that didn't mean that couldn't change.

Saguru forced himself to relax his posture. Both he and Casey were effectively cornered by being in the metal cages of the garbage area; the first thing they had to do is either get out of them or get the opponents in here with them. Between judo and fencing Saguru stood a fairly decent chance in close quarters combat, but he doubted Casey would be able to hold his own. His first priority was getting the boy out of harm's way.

"Alright, gentlemen, I can see we have limited options here. I have what you want; you can let the boy go," Saguru offered, crouching down low and keeping the drug in front of him, holding their attention.

The brothers turned to each other. One said jokingly in Cantonese. _"Do we want to let them go, brother?"_

"_Where is the fun in that? Besides, father said no witnesses."_

"_Sister said we need these two alive."_

"_In that case, gentlemen," _Saguru broke in, speaking flawless Cantonese_. "Where's the fun in us smashing these toys and leaving you with nothing?"_

"What are they saying?" Casey demanded in English.

Saguru smiled grimly at the two brothers. "_You need these, gentlemen. And apparently you need us alive_," He gripped the syringe tightly through the bag and pressed a white knuckled thumb against one side, one push from snapping the syringe in two. "_Let us go, or you can pick up whatever is left to take back with you,_" The syringe looked frail in his grip.

The brothers were glaring at him.

"You are idiot," one brother spat at him in Japanese. "You need drug too, yes? What good it is to you broken?"

"I don't need this thing. I don't even know what it is," Saguru shrugged, giving them a tight smile. "If you let us out, we'll give them to you."

Casey turned on him in outrage. "Hang on a minute, Sherlock, we can't…"

"Please be quiet," Saguru cut in curtly. "There's no point in us dying here."

"The boy, he comes out first," one brother offered, glaring at Saguru.

"Sorry, it's me or…" the thumb exerted enough pressure for the syringe to creak like a twig. Both brothers tensed.

Casey, momentarily ignored, had managed to get a hand inside his duffel. "How about," he ground out angrily. "Both of you get your hands up and prepare to run away before you get blown away?" The boy brought up a handgun, hefted with both skinny hands. The gun shook like flag in high winds, but stayed on target.

Saguru hissed through his teeth. Damn it, didn't the boy have any sense? Bringing a gun into the situation was not going to get them out of this. Saguru could see that Casey had absolutely no experience with firearms. The way he held the weapon would blow it straight back in his face from the recoil, and there was no way he could land an accurate shot with his hands shaking from the weight, except by accident. Worse, by the look on their opponents' faces, they _did _have firearm experience.

"Hey, Charlie Chan and Chuckie Chan, I'm talking to you," Casey taunted as he glared at them, sweating defiance.

The brothers both looked amused. "I don't think you know how to use that, little boy," one smirked while the other laughed.

"So? What are you going to do about it?" Casey spat. "You're Bleeders. What are you going to do? Let one rip and wake the city? I don't think that was in the plan. You don't want anyone to know you're here."

Bleeders? Saguru thought, heart pounding. Oh, _bloody_ _hell_…Saguru had never seen a Bleeder before, he'd only heard of them in passing a very long time ago.

"Then go on, boy, you shoot. I am sure you cannot pull the lever," one – the elder, it looked like – challenged.

Saguru took a breath and armed himself. "He doesn't need to," he interrupted calmly

Two glass bottles spun from his hands, one striking one brother hard in the chest, one shattered against the other's upraised arm.

It was a second's worth of surprise, another of hesitation; two seconds long enough. Saguru was out of the cage before the second bottle had shattered, and was on the two brothers before they could make a countermove. He yanked sharply on 'Charlie's' arm, tangling a foot behind his leg and following through with a sharp spin and a pull, neatly flipping the Hong Kong syndicate thug onto the pavement with a harsh crack.

He sensed movement behind him and pistoned his elbow backwards in a move not taught in any dojo or training manual, but came straight out of the seedier streets of London. Saguru had chased down criminals since before he'd hit puberty and had plenty of time to learn the dirty bastard school of fighting – he wouldn't have survived long if not. Pain blossomed in his joint and washed through his arm, but judging by the gristly noise he'd heard, he'd managed to score a point blank nose strike.

His body followed his elbow in a whirl to face his opponent, both hands engaged trying to get a strong enough grip for a joint lock, or failing that a decent hold for a grapple. He felt 'Chuckie's' foot connect hard with his shin (fittygomash, Saguru thought vaguely as the pain bloomed, sharp and jagged, the old Britons called shin-kicking fittygomash), causing him to stagger. Chuckie, nose flowing red freely, was quick to press the advantage, shoving enough distance between them for a solid blow to Saguru's solar plexus. Saguru refused to double over with the impact and despite letting loose a harsh gust of breath, managed to knock one hand free to gouge his opponents eye in another street move, forcing his attacker back far enough to follow up with a swift upper cut the sent Chuckie stumbling backwards. Then Saguru was dragged to the ground by Charlie, who had heaved himself up from his stunned body slam into the pavement.

Saguru cursed roughly as Chuckie's foot found its way, hard, into his stomach. He was momentarily paralyzed by the exquisite agony from his midriff. God, he hoped his ribs were only bruised. He hissed through his teeth has he heard Charlie's obscene chuckle in his ear from where he restrained the blonde with iron hands, while his brother Chuckie wound up for another blow.

He hated fighting multiple opponents. There was always someone to take advantage of a blind spot. Bloody damn…

There was a hollow, ominous sound and Chuckie's eyes rolled back. The Chinese man folded up and collapsed silently into the ground at the feet of Casey, who held a bottle in a fist so tight it shook.

Saguru took the opportunity to use his streetwise elbow again, driving it repeatedly into his captor's side until Charlie's steel grip loosened. He thrust his head painfully back into his opponent's chin, shocking him into letting go. Saguru wasted no time getting to his feet, pacing backwards to get some space between him and the two syndicate members; one who was rising murderously, clutching his side with one hand and his jaw with another, and another who was groaning and clutching his head, blood still flowing stickily from his nose.

Casey was clutching his bag to his chest, eyes darting from Charlie to Chuckie, eyes wide. "Uh oh."

Saguru watched in horror as the shape of the irises of the two attackers shifted. Damn, damn, hell, damn! Saguru reached out with one arm, snagged Casey around the scruff and yanked him sideways and away as Charlie Chan stuck out with his most formidable weapon.

It was a sound so loud it was barely a sound at all – it was the essence of loudness distilled into a blunt instrument of a tremendous size, ringing out across the night and probably quite audible for blocks and blocks away. No one hearing it could ever believe it would issue from a human mouth, without actually seeing it.

It hit the street like an aircraft bomb. Windows popped like soap bubbles. The bags of recyclables in the garbage alcoves folded inwards on themselves, their contents turned to shrapnel and dust. The pavement shivered underfoot, gaining a fine webbing of tiny cracks. Terracotta and stone shouldn't break so easily, like it was a mirror. Wood fared better because it was slightly more flexible, but the crates and doors all shed flying chips and sprinters anyway, adding to the unholy hailstorm swirling in the wake of the sonic scream.

Saguru dragged Casey ahead of the waves of forces turning the air itself into a weapon, his long stride keeping him ahead of the edge of the main jet stream, which followed them doggedly as their assailant turned to keep them in his sights. They had to stay out from direct line of sight of the Bleeders to avoid being hit.

But the syndicate members could turn in one spot faster than Saguru could outrun, and he managed to shove Casey down with one hand before diving for safety himself; not quite quick enough for the wall of psychically charged air to slam hard into his shoulder and back as he ducked.

Thankfully, luckily, the Bleeder's scream was limited by lung capacity. The terrible sound cut abruptly, leaving a ringing, aching silence behind.

Saguru groaned. Whoever thought air was soft and malleable and harmless had clearly never experienced this before. Up until right now he had been one of those people; not anymore. His shoulder and back felt like someone had hit him with a sledgehammer wrapped in sandpaper; there was a stinging wetness seeping into his shirt under his coat and his bones hurt like they'd been twisted in a vice.

Saguru staggered to his feet, dragging Casey with him, shaking his head to trying to somehow dislodge the ringing sensation. Their only chance was to get some distance between them and the Bleeders – the further away you went the less effective the weapon; at least, that's what Saguru hoped. The sound had to keep dispersing as it went, the waves getting weaker as they travelled; that was how it usually worked.

As if _usual_ had any place here.

Nevertheless, with no other viable options, he grabbed Casey's duffel because the boy would be slowed by it and pushed the red head ahead of him. "Run!"

Two things ultimately saved them. One, Charlie stopped to help Chuckie to his feet, so they could both strike together. That gave the blonde detective and the red haired psychic enough time to rise up from where the first blow had stuck them down, which in turn gave them a slight head start.

And two, as magnificent a weapon as the Chan's power was, it didn't score high points for subtlety. The silence that came in the wake of that almighty sound had not lasted long. Lights had come on, the market street people had come out of their homes to defend them, check for damage, find out what was happening. There were many of them; more came running in from the alleys and streets over, because here being a good neighbour was good sense. The home you helped to save today would mean your own was protected tomorrow. They crowded into the street, making the private act now a public forum, and giving Saguru and Casey the leeway they needed to start running. They were almost to the end of the street by the time the two brothers had pushed their way past the enraged and confused crowd and could chase after them. They weren't stupid enough to let loose another scream, even if it would effectively clear a path; they didn't want witnesses that could spread tales of impossible screams and destruction. Bad enough there were any at all.

Saguru made to go right at the end of the street; he knew if they headed that way they would be able to intercept the patrol car in the area and the police presence would probably force the brothers to back off most effectively. The only thing worse than witnesses for them were the police.

But Casey yanked him to the left. "Follow me!"

There was no time to argue. The syndicate brother's footsteps were echoing behind. If they got within a good range then it would all be over. Shouldering the duffel with his bad shoulder and ignoring his protesting bones, Saguru followed the boy as he raced with a commendable amount of speed to the left and up the road.

Casey ran and dodged up the street, diving across the road and onto the opposing footpath, blasting past a couple of pedestrians and leaping over a bag of garbage that had been tipped onto the street, never breaking stride. Saguru kept pace with him, watching the smaller figure as he stretched his tendons to near breaking point when he lengthened his stride. Behind them guttural curses rang out as the criminals gave chase.

Casey turned so sharply he nearly overbalanced, ducked into another alley and scrambled up a mesh fence blocking access to the other end like a monkey. Saguru followed gamely, losing a little ground because his shoes didn't have the right grip for climbing and his hands were still gloved. Still, natural athleticism helped him vault the obstacle with speed and follow Casey to where he'd run to the end of the alley.

"Throw me a notepad!" Casey yelled from where he'd halted, breathing hard.

Saguru, still running and keenly aware of the pursuers now tackling the mesh fence, reached blindly and closed a hand around a thick writing pad in the heavy bag, throwing it to Casey as he reached him.

The boy wasted no time; he threw the notepad like a frisbee out into the street, right into the windshield of a slow moving truck just beginning to pass by. The driver was startled by the sudden bang of the pad on his windshield and slammed on his brakes, causing the truck to squeal to a halt as it rolled past the mouth of the alley. It came to a final stop just past them and Casey darted towards it, tugging loose a securing strap on the canvas strung across the sides and crawling inside. Saguru sighed and followed, throwing the bag in first and then hastily jumping for the entrance, as the truck started to move again.

It was pitch black inside the truck and it carried a damp smell. Saguru crawled blindly, and ended up sticking his arm elbow deep in a tub of water, feeling a scaly body brush his wrist and flinch away. Oh…oh no…

"Gah! What the hell are they-" Casey yelped as he was splashed.

A scream burst out behind them and shivered the truck's back panel like a drum. The canvas rippled, restraining straps tearing as they struggled to hold. Casey and Saguru both clapped their hands over their ears as the cargo around them rattled and splashed and the floor shook. The world was full of darkness and noise inside the truck.

But the truck was picking up speed; the driver was protected by the truck itself and, while he had to have heard the ear splitting sound, he was buffered against its effects. They were out of range within moments, the driver wondering why the hell his side mirrors were both shattered but otherwise none the wiser.

Saguru groped in his jacket pockets with wet sleeves, rocking with the trucks bumping progress. His back and shoulder stung and ached, his ears were still ringing and his sternum was bruising nicely. Between the heist with bloody Kaitou Kid, the scaffolding, the sudden upsurging of dark memories hailed by a prepubescent psychic with a mouth, the goddamn psychic mafia hitmen and a truckload of carnivorous fish, he'd officially had enough for one night.

He found his penlight and switched it on. It wasn't much, but in the dark of the truck it went a long way. Casey dug around in his duffel, and withdrew a rather larger torch.

"Whoa! Look at that!" he yelled past the roar of the truck engine.

There was a convex bulge in the back panel of the truck where the Bleeder scream had struck; like some giant had planted his fist there in a rage. Around them were tubs, buckets and containers of all descriptions, including some very familiar filing boxes.

Saguru gloomily shone the penlight into a bucket. The piranha inside wriggled around in a particularly frustrated way, confined in a too small space. It looked like the Task Force had managed to round up all the fish; they were now probably on their way to their temporary tank, waiting for the aquarium personnel to collect them once space had been found.

"Yuck! Why are they transporting buckets of blood?" Casey wrinkled his nose from his side of the truck.

Saguru turned to look; yes, a few of the containers at the very back of the truck were red with blood. The fish inside had been victims of the Bleeders screams, even past the protection of the truck. Looking at the poor animals, you could see why that particular psychic was called a Bleeder. Imagine a sound so loud it could literally rupture your insides…

Saguru shifted uncomfortably. His shoulder and back were aching in earnest. "They're piranhas. The Chan Syndicate's screams were enough to kill those closest to the back."

"Piranhas? We've jumped into a truck full of _man eating fish_?" Casey yelped, hastily backing away from the tubs as far as he could. Which wasn't far, he'd had to push a few together just to have enough space to sit.

"Piranhas aren't man eating," Saguru sighed, trying to make himself comfortable. "That was a myth started by native guides in Brazil in the 1900's."

"Yeah, right. Pull the other one, it's got bells on," Casey snorted. He dug around in his duffel, withdrawing two syringes and checking them in the darkness. "So, once the truck gets where it's going, we should be safe to go back to your place."

Saguru blinked. "_My_ place?" he repeated blankly.

Casey swept a hand over his damp face. "Of course your place, Sherlock," he replied irritably. "I'm staying with you, aren't I? So therefore, we go to your place. QED. Aren't you a detective, or something?"

Saguru groaned. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse.


End file.
